


Kiss Me

by TheEarlyKat



Series: Warden Leverette [9]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Asexual Character, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-08-14 04:03:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7997866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheEarlyKat/pseuds/TheEarlyKat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zevran sees Levy's wound for the first time</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss Me

**Author's Note:**

> For [stars-in-the-lake, who asked for the prompt 'Can I Kiss you? with these two](http://stars-in-the-lake.tumblr.com)

Leverette hadn’t wanted more room when he cleared the air with Zevran. He wanted to be closer, touching, bumping shoulders occasionally as they traveled along well-worn paths, yet that was how it felt - and he wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. There was space to move as he pleased, whether it was towards or away from the elf, in a manner that meant he wanted Zevran to move with him or not. There was room to breathe, catch his breath when the assassin took it from him with a look or lost it when he ran out of arguments to throw. He didn’t feel forced, any longer, to rush things because he believed Zevran was losing interest. He didn’t feel self-loathing because he believed himself too much of a danger to try.

Try, he did, with nearly as much enthusiasm as the elf himself. He took it upon himself to stumble in every muddy rut from an earlier passing cart in the road, arms outstretched as wide as his grin for Levy to catch with him. He walked side by side with him, letting the sway of his hips guide him closer until their knuckles brushed, laughing when Leverette needed to pull away and discharge the static forming between them.

It was far different when they were alone.

There was closeness, still, more intimate but reserved. Zevran encouraged what he could out of the mage, but Leverette still reeled from the freedom of his choices and it was easy to get overwhelmed when he was unsure of what to do. Amongst the others, close contact was easy - safe. The assassin had no qualms about murmuring his desires whether there was an audience or not, and though Leverette was not adverse to hearing them, any attempt at their playing out while outside of their tents in camp were unspokenly forbidden. Zevran never went further than caresses that promised more, and Leverette was grateful, for he wasn’t sure if he could handle more.

So Zevran asked. Always. There were no more flinches away, no more hesitant gestures. He asked, plainly and simply, and it was Levy’s decision whether to follow through with the requests.

‘Can I touch you?’ followed by a hand trailing from his shoulder to his lower back. 'Can I take your hand?’ even as Leverette felt the heat from his palm just beneath his fingers.

“Can I kiss you?”

Leverette glanced up from the stump he’d taken over when Alistair left to pitch the tents for the night. It was yet to be dark but the fire was burning between them, dimmed by the pot of water hanging above it to simmer in the meantime, and the slightest glint of green sparked behind the elf’s eyes with the descending sun. They were pointed low, pupils blown wide and staring, unblinking, at curve of his stomach where he bent while untying his boots. Levy flushed and pulled his knees up when he puzzled out where the elf was looking. Zevran cleared his throat and Levy flushed all the redder, pale skin competing with the bright colors of the sunset.

Levy risked a look away from the clumps of dirt he was intent on staring at until they turned into stone, and found Zevran’s mouth quirked into a half smile. The usual mischief that came with such a familiar expression was missing, and the longer Levy watched him, the less the smile grew, until the mage sat fully upright and the grin fell completely off the elf’s face.

“It’s - it’s not that I don’t want to,” Leverette began, wondering if it was the lengthy pause following Zevran’s question that had him faltering. He leaned forward to pull himself closer to Zevran, coming to a halt when the assassin moved first. His eyes never left the spot on his legs and Levy felt an incredible urge to close his knees the closer he neared. He did, too, and found that his boot had slipped when he’d first pulled them close to his chest at the same time Zevran picked the empty shoe off the ground.

In it’s place was the wooden stump, hastily carved as the splinters that worked their way into his knee despite the leather padding around it and the crack running through the heel that had him wobbling on uneven ground. The straps holding it in place were loose, halfway undone already, and Zevran crouched before him to work them loose the rest of the way.

“Does it bother you?” Leverette asked, and he winced when Zevran’s fingers paused in their tugging before resuming. “It happened-” not a long time ago, he realized now, and the swollen scar tissue could speak for itself, but long enough that he’d grown used to it in the recent months, learned how to lean more on his current leg when waking in the morning and tighten the knots in his boot more so when he strapped them on. “It doesn’t bother me anymore.”

“Can I kiss you?”

Zevran had pulled the prosthetic off, laid it down gently by the boot to the side of him, and held his knee in his hand as he watched his face, one which Leverette didn’t know whether to hide or not. He settled for wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and nodding, biting a knuckle when Zevran lifted the joint of his leg to lips.


End file.
